


Still, there is no escape

by FieryGaze



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hades is a tragedy and Supergiant is too cowardly to admit it, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, spoilers for main quest (10 clears)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27766378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FieryGaze/pseuds/FieryGaze
Summary: “Thanks, Than,” he said. “Really.”“It doesn’t seem like there’s all that much I can do,” Thanatos admitted, looking sidelong at him instead of at the sea. “You really are bound there. Strongly. It doesn’t seem right, somehow.”“What do you mean?”“You burn so bright. You’re full of life. It seems like this place should embrace you.”“I thought you said you didn’t like it here.”“I said it has its benefits.”-Finally, the reality starts to set in. Zagreus is never getting out.
Relationships: Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 479





	Still, there is no escape

After his mother returned to the House of Hades, dying on the surface was actually pretty brutal.

To be fair, it hadn’t exactly been pleasant before. If it wasn’t Hades’ spear, it was a miserable and choking kind of death, like his insides were withering where he stood. But he'd put up with that and more if it meant finding a few precious moments with Persephone, coming to the end of all those secrets.

After that, though, why keep going? He genuinely wasn’t sure. The secrets were out, such as they were. Persephone was home, and they were learning to be mother and son. Back when he’d learned of her existence, he’d hardly dared to hope for that much.

So, it was good. This ‘security officer’ stuff wasn’t the worst in the world. At least it let him keep fighting, gave him some outlet for the ferocious energy that just grew and grew somewhere in his rib cage otherwise.

Hades’ opinion on this was as inscrutable as ever. He seemed to prefer to act as if nothing had changed, as if Zagreus were still trying to escape with all his might. And for his part… Zagreus _was_ trying to escape with all his might. Though his only reward up there now was a swift and ugly death.

Sometimes he tried to entertain the others with ridiculous stories if they asked about it, but the facts of the matter were frankly a bit depressing. He barely glimpsed the sky before a sort of full body tearing sensation went through him, knocking him ass-backwards into the River Styx. He’d died so many terrible ways lately that he decided this one wasn’t any worse, though it was up there in terms of unpleasant ways to go, next to Satyr poison.

He was happy, he told himself. He’d done a lot of good here. Had he really escaped and gone to live on the surface, Euridice and Orpheus would never have been permitted to meet, nor Achilles and Patroclus. He’d even been able to reunite Nyx and Chaos. So, really, it was for the best. This was it, he’d done it, so now he got to be a House servant again, but doing something he was actually good at.

Thanatos had looked so happy when Zagreus said he would stay in the Underworld. After that, the two of them had gotten very close, and Zagreus could never regret that. Than seemed fine with his own role in the underworld, so why shouldn’t Zagreus be with his?

 _So that’s it,_ he told himself. _You accomplished your goal, you have something to do you’re good at, and there’s even you and Thanatos now. This is the best possible way this could have ended._

“Guess I win this one,” Thanatos said, adjusting his grip on his scythe. Around them, the ghostly remains of exalted souls withered palely in the grass. Presumably, they would stay withered until their next scheduled attempt to murder the Prince of the Underworld.

“Couldn’t keep up with you this time,” Zagreus said cheerfully, wiping a light track of blood from his cheek. “You certainly know what you’re doing.”

Than tipped his head a little, lambent eyes sharpening. “Uh, Zag, don’t take this the wrong way…”

“Did I smudge blood all over my face just then?”

“Yes. That’s not what I’m talking about. You seem off.”

“Well, can’t win them all. Those damned flame wheels always catch me off guard.”

“I meant more… generally,” Than tried.

“What could be off, generally?” Zagreus asked. “I’ve got an official position now, so we get to work together. And my mother actually decided to come home. Really, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“I see.”

He made it to the surface, ‘off’-ness aside, and handed his father’s ass to him once again. This time he entertained himself with pretending he was actually getting out for good. If he had all the time in the world, where would he go? He could not quite see the seashore from where he was. That would be a nice place to start. Maybe there would be shells. He started down the mountain, the cool bite of the snow around him, and died before he took five steps.

Rising up from the pool of Styx, pain and fatigue evaporated, he did not feel the fleeting sense of accomplishment he was trying to aim for these days. Maybe next time he’d forgo the daydreaming.

Time passed.

“I really feel like something is wrong,” Thanatos said. “Correct me if I’m off. I just want to know.”

They were in Zagreus’ room. When Than had started coming in here more often, he’d made a brief effort to clean up more often… Sure, they’d known each other long enough that Than surely knew what to expect by now, but the changing nature of their relationship seemed to preclude a little more effort on Zagreus’ part. The resolution swiftly evaporated. Lucky for him, Than seemed willing to tolerate a lot.

Something really stung at that question. Zagreus sighed, slumping into Thanatos’ side. Finally admitting it would be easier _sans_ eye contact.

“I guess something’s wrong,” he admitted. “I’m trying for it not to be. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Than said, resting an arm on Zagreus’ shoulders. “Can you tell me what’s bothering you?”

Zagreus had been doing so good a job of not thinking about it that he realized abruptly he’d told Thanatos almost nothing. “I can’t be on the surface long,” he said.

When no elaboration seemed forthcoming, Than made an affirmative noise. “I don’t like it up there, either. Don’t feel my best.”

“No, but… I actually do kind of like it there,” he admitted. “You should have seen my mother’s garden, it was like nothing I’ve ever seen. And the sun…”

“A little bright for me.”

“It’s so bright,” Zagreus agreed, willing to commiserate on that point. “But still, the sunrise. Or sunset. When I catch one, it’s incredible.”

“I suppose the surface has its benefits,” Thanatos conceded. “But you can’t be up there long, in what sense?”

“I just die,” Zagreus said. “Turns out I’m bound to this place, like Father is. When Mother was up there, I could last long enough to track her down and have a brief conversation. More than a whole day. Now that she’s down here, it’s barely a few minutes. I just die.”

“Oh,” Than said. “That’s… it’s not that way for me at all. I didn’t realize.”

“I find it a little unfair,” Zagreus declared, blustering a little to prove that he actually _wasn’t_ all that hurt by the situation, “that my father consented to being bound to the Underworld, and somehow that applies to me.”

“Back around the time you first found the Queen, before she came to live here…” Thanatos said slowly, “You told me you’d _decided_ to stay after all.”

Of course, the exact thing he hadn’t wanted to get around to by talking about this. “Well… I did decide to stay.”

“You’re telling me that you had no choice. That you just die if you stay up there.”

“That factored into my decision.”

 _“Zagreus,”_ Than said. Just as Zagreus feared, he sounded hurt. “I’m… I thought… I don’t know.”

Zagreus pushed himself back up, but still found eye contact difficult. “Listen, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to put it that way to lie about it. I just… it didn’t feel as bad, if it was a decision I made myself, okay? And I did want to stay with you, that part’s true.”

Than managed to catch his eye and successfully stare into his soul. “Aside from me, you didn’t want to stay.”

“I don’t… know.” He really didn’t know. Back then he’d been so focused on seeing his mother that he hadn’t exactly been thinking in long-term plans. “At one point I was so ready just to throw it all away. There were some things I should have done differently. Telling you, for instance.”

“Still not great at telling me things, I’m finding out.”

“I really am sorry. I didn’t think it was worth worrying about.”

Because Thanatos really was tolerant of a lot, he said, “If it worries you, it worries you. You don’t have to pretend like everything’s fine if it’s not. Tell me next time. What do you think we can do?”

“Do?”

“It seems like you want to see more of the surface. Maybe I can help.”

Naturally, even with his fancy new official title, his father wasn’t just going to let him stroll out of the Underworld. The arbitrariness of the resistance stung, lending a bit of extra recklessness to his next escape attempt. _I just want to go visit the surface with Thanatos_ was not going to fly. So, he’d have to struggle and bleed for it. Fair enough.

Theseus and Asterius put a few more dents in him than expected, even with Thanatos popping in to help, and he was bloody and mad by the time he got to face his father. The Lord of the Dead stood with his back to the ocean, night sky mirrored behind him in the still waters.

“Well?” Hades said. “Show me what you’ve learned, boy.”

He’d learned to be a sharpened weapon, tempered for the express purpose of slicing up and out of the Underworld. He’d learned to accept blessings from those who he’d never actually meet on Olympus. He’d learned that he could still do this, even when he wasn’t really fighting for anything in particular. That he _had_ to do it, even.

Stygius made its final mark through Hades’ back, and the Lord of the Dead collapsed.

“I fell to you again,” he wheezed in his last breaths, on his knees. Zagreus watched, impassive. “You’ve gotten…strong... boy.”

The Styx took him. Zagreus took a moment to breathe, feeling the burn and pulse of all the wounds across his body.

Nearby, there was a bloom of blue-green light as Thanatos shifted into being. “That was something. I wish you would be more careful.”

“I’ll die soon enough,” Zagreus said, smiling to make clear it was a joke. Than didn’t seem to find it very funny. “Anyway, let’s get out of here. You really think you being here will make a difference?”

“Maybe,” Thanatos said. “I’m death itself. Being near me is akin to being near the veil between death and life.”

“Are you saying being near you is like dying? Because I’d personally disagree.”

“I’m told we don’t have all day, Zag,” Thanatos said, tone exasperated, though his expression softened.

The mountain air hit them like a wall. Thanatos stayed close, hovering at Zagreus’ shoulder as they made their way out onto the path. The sea stretched so large and dark before them.

He felt… a little better, actually, then he usually did. There was already a sense of emptiness, like something vital had bled out of him, but no pain.

“Well?” Thanatos asked, urgent.

“I… well, I don’t think I’m dying yet,” Zagreus said, opening and closing a hand to test his motor skills. “Maybe this will work. Hey, let’s go to my mother’s cottage. I told her initially I’d take care of the plants.”

Even as he said it, he knew he wouldn’t last the journey. Thanatos was still scrutinizing him, and he found himself putting a smile back on. “Actually… never mind. Smaller goals first. I wanted to see the seashore, let’s go there.”

“You _are_ dying,” Thanatos commented as they descended the mountainside. He caught Zagreus’ arm when he stumbled on a loose stone. “I can feel it.”

“What, did you not believe me before?”

“I did believe you, but seeing it is a little different.”

“Then time’s of the essence. Let’s try and get there before I keel over.”

“Zag…”

Zagreus pulled ahead a little, finding a path down. This was the furthest he’d been since his mother had returned to the House, so Thanatos really _was_ helping, though in a limited capacity. He could feel his own life force fraying, threatening to dump him back into the Styx any minute. Abruptly, he was desperate to actually make the seashore this time.

“Hey,” Than said, gently, suddenly at his back. “Hold on. We can go faster if I just carry you. We’ll get there in time.”

“Huh? Oh,” Zagreus blinked at him, found a real smile after a moment, a small sun spot of relief. “Sure, Than. Yeah.”

Thanatos scooped him up effortlessly, and yes, it turned out that floating down the mountain was much swifter than stumbling over rocks and bushes the whole way. It was honestly quite strange to see Thanatos on the surface world, even though it was apparently where he spent much of his time. It felt incongruous, like the shadows and light acted differently on him than on their surroundings, like he’d been painted in a different style than the landscape behind him.

“Here,” Thanatos said. He came to a rest on a gravelly, rocky shore, choppy waves slapping at the edges. “Are you good?”

Zagreus found his balance weird when he got back on his feet, but nodded, steadying himself with a hand on Than’s shoulder. “Yes. I’m good. Aw, there aren’t even any seashells.”

“I’ll bring you one sometime,” Than insisted, squeezing Zagreus’ hand. “I know where I can find some.”

“Hey,” Zagreus said. He felt the core of him wavering, ghostly. “Don’t let go, or I’ll probably die.”

“I know.”

Zagreus just could not seem to get his balance right, so the two of them sat on the uncomfortable rocks, leaning on each other, hands clasped. It was still night, with only the lightest traces of blue dawn on the horizon. Maybe there weren’t any seashells, but it was still beautiful.

“Thanks, Than,” he said. “Really.”

“It doesn’t seem like there’s all that much I can do,” Thanatos admitted, looking sidelong at him instead of at the sea. “You really are bound there. Strongly. It doesn’t seem right, somehow.”

“What do you mean?”

“You burn so bright. You’re full of life. It seems like this place should embrace you.”

“I thought you said you didn’t like it here.”

“I said it has its benefits,” Than corrected him. “Anyway. I can tell it means a lot to you. I didn’t realize that before.”

“You know I never really felt like I fit in, there,” Zagreus said. Talking was becoming difficult through a familiar, suffocating pain. “It wasn’t just Father. I wanted… I don’t know. But I guess it wasn’t this.”

“I’m sorry,” Than said.

“Mother said the same thing once. That she didn’t feel like she fit in there. But then she came back. Now we’re both stuck there. Well, I guess…” He grimaced through a relentless squeeze of pain, “she can leave if she wants.”

“It sounds like she intends to stay.”

“I really hope it’s… not just for my sake—”

“Zag?”

Tearing, like all his fundamental components separated at once. The heat of Thanatos’ body against his vanished as he plunged helplessly back into the waters of the Styx: back home, always back home, time and time again. He’d hardly begun to hope for more before the truth of it had set in. Maybe the Fates just ultimately thought it was funny to see him try.

***  
  


Still, there wasn’t anything he could do about it. In some ways it was nice that Thanatos knew how much this was quietly tearing him up inside, though in other ways it had been easier to just pretend everything was fine. It wasn’t like anyone else was catching on.

Except… “All right,” Megaera said, throwing him to the ground. He felt the impact in his shoulder blades and lost the air in his lungs—but she didn’t follow through, just looked at him lying there. “What are you playing at? It hasn’t been this easy to fight you in ages.”

After being granted a kind reprieve to struggle for air, he said, “What, you’re winning and that just makes you want to stop fighting?”

She gave a humourless chuckle. “Sure, something like that. I’m worried you’re _letting_ me win.”

Zagreus stared up at the shadowy arches of the chamber ceiling. “I’m not, but it wouldn’t matter either way, so let’s just get on with it.”

“You’re the one who wanted this,” she said, dryly. “You’re the one who decided you were getting out of here. And you actually did it. Then, you brought back the Queen and decided you wanted to keep doing this. But now it doesn’t _matter_.”

“I’m glad we’re talking again, Meg,” he said in non-answer.

“Hah. You can stop tearing your way through Tartarus any time, you know. I’m sure Lord Hades would love that.”

He rolled back to his feet, calling Varatha back to his hand. “No. I don’t think so. I’m getting out.”

Meg raised an eyebrow in an expression that was, excruciatingly, bordering on pity. She may not have known the details, but she knew he wasn’t going anywhere, not for good. “You can try.”

“Don’t you ever want… to get out yourself?” he asked.

“ _Tsch._ I’m a Fury, Zag. We know our place.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t really answer the question. Are you happy here?”

“This is where I belong,” she said, leveling her whip towards him. “I can’t conceive of being anywhere else.”

“I think you should see it sometime. The surface. It’s nice.”

“Not for me.”

She did actually kill him that time, though not for lack of resistance on his part. It was starting to feel like the only thing worse than dying at the first brush of fresh air was not even getting that far.

***  
  


Zagreus helped Persephone with her garden. It was nice, even though he wasn’t very good at it, and Persephone occasionally had to exclaim “Zagreus!” and lightly whap him with a glove before he damaged something. As a parent-child bonding activity, it was much better than what passed for the same with Hades. Once the plant was safe from Zagreus’ clumsiness, Persephone carefully explained what he did wrong and showed him the proper way.

Everything that grew in the Underworld was stubborn and reedy. Persephone’s care softened the plants, though, encouraging them to develop in ways they hadn’t during her absence. She always knew the right thing to do to make them come alive. The leaves turned towards her for lack of sun.

They talked about a lot of things while they worked. Persephone didn’t talk about her past on Olympus, but she had stories about her lonesome life on the surface afterwards, sprinkled with a few anecdotes from her previous reign as Queen. Zagreus found he had plenty to talk about too, catching her up on the years she was away.

“There we are,” Persephone said, wiping her forehead with a wrist and beaming at a particularly pathetic sapling. It had sprouted in Persephone’s absence, too close to the roots of the other pomegranate trees to thrive. “It will grow much better over here. Thanks for your help, Zagreus.”

“I’m happy to,” he said, really meaning it. “It’s nice, working out here. Though, you’re literally the goddess of verdure, aren’t you? Can’t you just wave your hand and have the plants all march into place?”

“Oh, it doesn’t work like that, my son,” she said, dusting off her hands on her skirt. When gardening, the extensive regalia of the Queen was tucked away and replaced by much more practical dress. It relieved him a little to see that; hopefully it meant she was comfortable here. “Besides, I feel the same… that it’s nice to work out here with the plants. Though you need to learn a bit of a gentler touch with them.”

He held up his hands. “Can’t argue. Thank you for risking their safety with me.”

“Oh, don’t worry. You’re a fast learner, you’ll get better at it. Orpheus says you’ve learned to play the lyre!”

“I have,” he agreed with a little glow of pride. “Just recently started getting it to actually sound like music. It’s harder than it looks.”

“Oh, I believe it! Good job, I know music’s not an easy thing to stick with. I was never very good at it myself. If you could do that, you’ll be a master gardener in no time.”

“As long as I watch where I put my feet.”

The faintest shadow of regret passed her face, and he knew she was thinking about the sprouts. In his defense, he hadn’t known they were there, and the Prince of the Underworld was expressly designed to singe the life out of any unsuspecting plant he stepped on. “Yes. Please.”

“…Mother,” he said after a moment, watching her gaze travel critically over the garden, searching for something else that needed doing. “Tell me. Are you… really happy here?”

“Honestly,” she said, looking back at him, “I’m finding it a little early to tell for sure. But I have found reconnecting with everyone here very nice. I’m hopeful.”

“Are you?” he asked, searching her expression for any hint of deception.

“Yes. Zagreus. I promised I came here of my own free will. And that if it wasn’t to my liking, I would leave. That is what we agreed on.”

“Okay—that’s true, but… isn’t it awful here for you? This place is horrible. We’re in the deepest pits of Tartarus.”

“It has its charms for that, my son.” She peered at him curiously. “Why this all of a sudden?”

“I just… Before, when we were talking on the surface… You really made it sound like you weren’t happy here. That you didn’t want to come back.” The words fell out of him with increased speed, lest he lose courage in bringing it up. “I never wanted… It was selfish of me to want you to come back, and I’m happy you’re here, but I need to know it’s not… that you’re okay with it.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder, a bracing kind of touch. “I am okay with it. Are you?”

Unexpectedly, with zero warning, he was sure he was about to start crying. “Yes. Obviously. Sorry. I’ll–excuse me.”

“Zagreus—”

But he wouldn’t stick around for the rest of the sentence. This was good. He was happy. It was fine. He wouldn’t worry his mother about it, either.

He’d always known he would get out. Sometimes, during his more desperate attempts, his many deaths, his faith had faltered a little. But rising from the pool of Styx, he’d always seen a way forward, a path beyond even the cruelest enemies. At the very end of the day, he could just throw himself against the same obstacle again and again, and eventually he’d find a way through. He missed that feeling, sometimes.

***  
  


He stepped out into the cold air, saw Hades standing there wrapped up in his stupid red cloak, and snarled, throwing Coronacht down into the snow. “You’re here again. Don’t you get tired of it?”

“Your attempts have been gaining speed lately,” Hades said, looking down at him impassively. A remarkable attempt at gravitas for someone who’d been murdered by his son about twenty times now. “We’ve hardly time to implement any security features before you crash through them again.”

He was _helping Hades._ That’s exactly what he was doing, by playing along with this. Every path he carved through the Underworld only made it more difficult for anyone else to follow after him. Not that they could. There was a difference between a shade trying to escape and a living god, armed with bloodthirsty ancient weapons and blessings from Olympus.

For a moment, he just stared at Hades, who glowered back. “Pick up your weapon, boy. I’m not standing up here for a chat.”

“Just let me go,” he said suddenly. “You know I can beat you. You know your security means nothing to me. You know there’s nothing for me out there. So, there’s no harm in letting me go.”

“I have a reputation to uphold, boy.”

“I don’t care about your damned reputation,” he said. “Even if I did, no one’s here to see you uphold it.”

“Pick up your weapon. I don’t have all day.”

Abruptly, he despaired. Stooped to pick up his bow. “Fine.”

This was probably the only honest thing they’d ever have, this fight in the snow to the death. Maybe Zagreus was as ungrateful as his father always said, but he wasn’t ready to forgive and did not intend to. They were supposed to be a happy family now, was that it? Ruling the underworld together, in his father’s House?

He was clumsy, and Hades took advantage of it. Speared through the heart and dunked back into the River Styx. Fine! He’d had worse. Next time would be different. He’d walk right back out of the House and march back up for another round before Hades could even sit back down at his desk.

***  
  


Finally, once he’d had enough of lying to himself, he went to Nyx and tried to be honest. It wasn’t easy. He never knew what to do with directionless feelings like these, especially now, when he was supposed to be happy.

“…Nyx. I need to ask you something.”

The House was quiet. Most of its godly denizens were out taking care of work, keeping the machinery of the Underworld running. It was as good as any a time to bring it up, forging ahead before he had time to second guess.

She dipped her head, giving him her full attention. “Of course, child. What is it?”

“Why am I bound to the Underworld?”

“I don’t know,” she answered after a moment. “I wish I did. It could be that it is simply due to being Hades’ child. Or perhaps…”

She trailed off, unwilling to finish the thought.

“What would be your best guess?” Zagreus asked. “And is there any way… I mean, I know there won’t be. I’m only asking because… I just wonder if there’s a way to _stop_ being bound to the Underworld.”

“If it is through the Fates’ contract with your Father… I fear the contract is immutable.”

“But they’re your daughters, aren’t they?” Zagreus asked. “Surely there must be something. You could talk to them. I didn’t _agree_ to that contract, so how can I be bound by it?”

“Some agreements are such that they alter fundamental things about our world,” Nyx said. “And as you know, your father was never meant to have an heir. Some feature of that… It is impossible to know. What’s brought this on, child?”

“I… I feel trapped, Nyx,” he admitted. An emptiness prickled through him as he named it. “I told myself I wouldn’t be stuck here forever, but it turned out I had no choice in the matter. I’m happy my mother’s back—I’m beyond happy, please don’t mistake me on that count. But this place… I can’t be here forever. I don’t want to be here forever.”

“This is your home,” she said softly.

“Do people have to stay in their home?” he asked. “Do I owe it to my father to try and rebuild our relationship? Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I want to live life on my own terms, and deal with him on my terms, and actually see what the rest of the world is like. I at least need the choice.”

“This is understandable.”

“Really?” he had to stop himself and make sure he’d heard correctly. “That… well, I didn’t think it was. I thought you might say I was being ungrateful.”

“I am not the Lord Hades,” she said, a bit of a sting in her voice. “A child wants to make their own way in the world apart from their parents. I understand this. And you have not had an easy time here. You don’t owe this House anything. I believed the same when you first told me you wanted to leave.”

“But you’re saying the contract is immutable,” he said. “That I can’t fix it.”

“I fear…” she hesitated again, eyes sliding past him. “The matter surrounding your birth. Your death. That may have more to do with it than the original contract.”

“When you brought me back to life.”

“Yes. It was no small task. It took all the power available to me and more. It may have been I who bound you, though unintentionally, to this place that is the seat of my own power. I am sorry.”

“It… it’s done, so don’t apologize,” he said, though his heart sank. “I just want to know. Is there a way to undo it?”

“If your life itself is bound to this realm… child, I do not know.”

“Right. Okay,” he said. If Nyx had no way to fix this, he suspected that no one would. “I knew it wasn’t likely.”

“I will see what can be done,” Nyx nodded, expression set. She was not the type of person to say things and not mean them, which was heartening. She’d practically moved Heaven and Earth to allow him to reach Persephone in the first place, after all. “Especially if it is due to my actions, this is something I must try and resolve.”

“Nyx, don’t say it like that… You’ve done so much for me already. I honestly hated to ask.”

“You have done much for me as well,” Nyx replied. “I also wish for you to have the freedom to discover your own place. But I can make no promises. And it may take a long time.”

“We have nothing but time,” he said.

Zagreus was starting to feel like he had a lot in common with the shades. He’d always assumed he was alive; he felt alive, blood pumped through his veins in the manner of the living. But like the spirits of the dead, the Underworld was his prison. When Hades and Persephone let Eurydice go, they hadn’t even known whether she could persist in the land of the living. They hadn’t gotten the chance to find out.

This place was buried to its eyeballs in tragedy. For a long time, he hadn’t really seen it. It was just the way things were in the realm of the dead, the legions of shades and their sorrows, the harsh judgements of their Lord.

He’d grown to know Achilles and become his student. Achilles was a hero, certainly, but still one Shade among billions, the thinking and feeling aftershock of a mortal life. Achilles had a pact, entered into out of love, eternally separating him from happiness.

Zagreus undid that pact through no small effort. Same with Orpheus’. That was two pacts, for the shades he knew and thought of as friends. The House of Hades’ administrative chamber was full to bursting with millions of official parchments. If the two he actually knew about were so unfair, it stood to reason that a good portion of the rest were too, if only he knew their signees.

Now that he had regained access to the administrative chamber, no one pestered him when he started looking through them. Unfortunately, absent of context, the pacts were inscrutable. Simple but vague, the names of shades who could be anyone and anywhere. _Eternal punishment in the pits of Tartarus. Eternal service to the House of Hades._ Some of them were so old they defied his understanding, and still there were shades somewhere acting out their consequences, by all appearances completely forgotten by the House. Zagreus messed up the filing and got snapped at to keep his hands out of the papers.

After their conversation, Nyx was often absent from the House, returning mainly to perform her duties and consult with Hades on important matters. She wouldn’t tell him if she had made any progress, simply said, “Patience, child.” He’d said they had eternity, but the passage of time had never felt so slow.

So, he tried asking Achilles about it. “Sir, the Underworld… this is going to sound like a weird question, but why is it like this?”

“You’re the one who’s a god, lad,” Achilles replied with a wry smile. His smiles came more easily these days, and seemed less ghostly, came more from the heart. “The world was created thus by your kin.”

“Oh, I know. I _know,_ but how much of this has to be the way it is? Nyx created the realm of the dead, but as far as I know my father created all the infrastructure. Or was that the Fates, and he was only given power over it?”

“I’m afraid for the answers to those questions, you’ll have to ask him,” Achilles said, heavily. He must have realized such answers would never be forthcoming.

“And the criteria for whether shades end up in Tartarus, Asphodel or Elysium… it’s all made up, isn’t it?” he forged ahead, a sense of urgency setting in. “There’s some kind of judging process overseen by my father. And then… I’ve read as much as your notes, you don’t think there’s much justice to it. It’s practically arbitrary.”

“Such is a mortal life,” Achilles said. “My values have changed considerably in my time here. Once I would have agreed that certain feats of valor were required to attain eternity in Elysium. Now… I believe my and Patroclus’ fates should have by all rights been reversed.”

“And that proves that shades can _change,_ too. I mean, Sisyphus—”

“Lad, you know he atones for terrible crimes.”

“I know, but we’re standing here doubting the criteria for judgement. If there’s margin for error, then everything down here…”

Achille’s gaze slid past him, down the hall and back. “You need to keep your voice down when discussing things like this. The fact of the matter is, this is the way things work right now. Without your father’s work, the dead would not be comfortable here. Lord Hades is constantly working to ensure there is enough space, and what space there is is suited to those who dwell there.”

“I’ve gotten to know my father’s realm pretty well while wantonly ransacking it,” Zagreus said. “And I don’t know how comfortable it is. Er… aside from the ransacking, I mean.”

“Shades are powerless against the might of the gods,” Achilles said after a moment. A quiet old sadness had returned to his eyes, one that had not been so frequent of late. “The Underworld is in a delicate balance, and upsetting that has the potential to do much more damage than good. This will sound hypocritical coming from me, but the stakes here are singular. I would advise you to caution.”

Well, he was the son of Hades, and it had to count for something, even if his authority was limited. Hades, of course, had no desire to discuss the operations of his realm with his son. Even his most civil attempts were met with disdain— _what would you know of the work needed to maintain this realm,_ and _your questions are as pointless as they are ill-considered._

His less civil attempts were met with a wall of resentment, a barked response of _Go do your job and put some terror into the shades._ As ever, he’d get nowhere with Hades, but now he had another option.

Since they’d had that discussion in the garden, Persephone tended to look at Zagreus with concern. After he breezily dismissed her first few attempts to ask if he was okay, she stopped asking, but she did not stop looking. Their gardening had become a little quieter, the unspoken hovering between them. Zagreus deftly avoided that by starting in on another topic that certainly promised to be less tense: “How do you feel about the way Father runs the Underworld, mother?”

“He works hard,” she answered, considering. “It’s no small task. There’s hardly enough time to keep up with all the shades coming in, never mind dealing with them fairly once they’re here.”

It felt like the time to be direct, so he said, “So, you think it’s fair? How we deal with the shades.”

“I’ve been doing my best to make it so. We aren’t endlessly resourced. And some things can’t be changed.”

“I know.” He’d watched many small improvements take place with the Queen’s presence. “But I wonder… how much of this _can_ be changed.”

“Zagreus,” she said, her voice gentle, “you can’t help everyone.”

“Well, I’m not good for much else,” he said, a little more sharply than he’d intended. “Sorry. That came out wrong, I just mean that I want to try. I really hate to ask this, but can’t you get him to at least consider some kind of restructuring?”

Persephone folded her arms, looking thoughtful. “I will speak to him.”

The evidence of this was seen when Hades saw him walking by the main hall and barked, “Boy. What have you been telling your mother?”

When he looked for Persephone at her customary place beside Cerberus, she was absent. “I only mentioned how you had no interest in hearing my concerns about the Underworld.”

“Your _concerns_ are unfounded.”

“If you’re going to let me have more authority here,” he said, keeping his voice carefully even, “you need to consider my opinions. Or actually ask the shades themselves and see what they say about it.”

“Bah!” Hades snapped, slamming a fist down on the desk, still holding his quill. “They’re just shades, boy. They, and you, need to learn your place. Even I can’t go changing the way the Underworld works.”

“Why not?” he demanded. “If all of us are stuck here forever, might as well make an attempt.”

“It works the way it does for reasons you are too stubborn to acknowledge,” Hades growled, “and too inexperienced to understand. I am sick of having this conversation with you. Go do your own work and leave me to mine.”

“No,” Zagreus said. “No, I’m not letting you dismiss me again. If I don’t understand the reasons, I demand you explain them to me, instead of treating me like a child.”

Hades’ expression darkened. “You only possess what authority you have only through my grace.”

“I thought it was because I was your son, or does that not factor into anything?”

“I can easily take back any of the meager privileges you’ve earned.”

“I’m not afraid of your threats,” he insisted. Around him, the shades that had been hopeful for an audience were making themselves scarce. “Maybe I am stubborn and inexperienced, but I think we could change things if you weren’t so set in your damned ways. There at least must be a possibility.”

Hades glowered at him. “There is not. Do not bring this up to me again.”

“No,” he said, almost laughing for the manic energy that was swiftly filling him up. “No, if I have concerns, I plan to keep bringing them up. I’ll wear you down through sheer annoyance.”

“The running of the Underworld is not a game,” Hades said, clipped. “The existence of the afterlife itself rests on my ability alone to maintain it. If you jeopardize that work, you are putting yourself and everyone here in danger. Including your precious shades.”

“Then let’s—” he grit his teeth, “work together on it, at least.”

“I think not. As I’ve said, this conversation is over. Keep at your work, and maybe someday I will see fit to explain further to you.”

“I’m telling you,” Zagreus said, blood boiling, “to explain it to me further _now_. You owe me that much.”

“I do not. You’ll earn the privilege like you earned the others.”

It seemed he was at the end of his influence. In the House of Hades, he would have to play by his father’s rules to get anything done. Maybe he could get around it if he got enough of the Cthonic gods on his side, if he tried again with more backup. But imagining them or anyone else defying Lord Hades the way he’d made a habit of was difficult. He’d be on his own for this one. And earning privileges in the House of Hades was a long and bitter process.

Well. He had nothing but time.

Thanatos found him lying on his back on the outcropping of his balcony that oversaw Tartarus. “What have you gotten yourself into now?”

“Oh, hey, Than,” he said, watching Than’s hooded face eclipse part of the shadowy underworld ceiling. “Funny running into you out here.”

“Lord Hades seems angry.” Than knelt down beside him. “Hypnos said you had another argument?”

“I’m used to that.”

“This is different, isn’t it?”

Zagreus took a minute to try and find some words that would make Than feel better, but his brain felt like a box of marbles someone was shaking. “Thanatos. Am I dead?”

“Are you _dead?_ ” Thanatos said, alarmed. “Not last I checked.”

“If I were alive, I’d be able to leave. But I’m trapped here with all the rest of the shades.”

“Your life is bound here. That’s different.”

“Are you sure?”

“You’re asking death incarnate,” Thanatos intoned. “You’re not dead, I’d know about it.”

“Hmm,” Zagreus said in response.

“I’m sure you’ve heard this already, but you need to be careful going around saying you don’t like the way the Underworld works _,”_ Thanatos said. “If you were anyone else, he’d probably have locked you in Tartarus for bringing it up.”

“See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about,” Zagreus said bitterly. “I don’t know why he has to be like that. Why this place has to be this way.”

“Death is inescapable.”

“Obviously mortals die and have to go somewhere afterward, I’m not pretending that’s not true,” he said. “But I swear there has to be a better way to do this.”

“Do you know what that way is?” Than asked.

“Well… not exactly, no. Not yet.”

“Then until you do, be careful.”

“Than, I’m always careful,” he said, unable to resist smiling as Thanatos’ face settled into an expression that plainly showed he found this statement manifestly untrue. “Well, I try to be. Sometimes I am. I don’t _need_ to be, mostly.”

“But you should be,” Thanatos said.

His next escape attempt was fast. He was getting to know the quirks of the Underworld better than he once would have ever expected: the exact weight and speed of the traps in Tartarus, exactly how many steps he could take in the Phlegethon before it started to burn, the perfect, limited martial forms practiced by the exalted souls of Elysium. He didn’t need to expend any more energy than necessary to climb from one layer to the next. That day, his sword form was perfect, nearly effortless. Even blasted Theseus could hardly touch him.

Finally, he threw open the doors of the Temple Styx and drifted out onto the surface. Hades stood before him, expression strange, maybe sensing something in Zagreus’ uncharacteristic silence.

“You made fast work that time, boy,” he said. Zagreus readied his blade. “Come, then. Be sent back.”

He made his reply with Stygius: _You first, old man._ The sword was like air in his hand, augmented with the chilly breath of Demeter’s blessing. Again, he fought expending no extra energy, dancing back around the thrust of Hades’ spear. Leaving a deep gash on Hades’ shoulder, then shifting out of the way of Hades’ next slash. He knew the limits of his father’s reach and drifted just outside of them, darting close when he saw an opening. He felt alive, like every heartbeat was thrumming.

He could see it in Hades’ face when he knew he was going to lose the fight, though it didn’t bring him any satisfaction. Once, Zagreus moved in the wrong direction and earned a shallow slash on the shoulder. It was the only mark that was on him when he saw Hades fatally overextend his reach, and stepped forward to deliver the final blow: a smooth stab to the heart.

Hades gasped and fell to his knees, always slow to die. “You… somehow… you beat me again.”

Hades’ weapon slipped out of his grasp and fell to the snow, its tip still wet with red blood. As he died, dissolving away into the Styx, Hades muttered needlessly, “and still, there is… no… escape.”

“I know,” Zagreus said to the bloody snow. He stood in the silence and looked at the sky for a bit, then headed out to die.

***  
  


Time passed, but not as much as he’d expected before Nyx caught him walking towards his chambers and said, “Child, a moment.”

“Nyx, you’re back,” he said. “I feel like I haven’t seen you around in ages.”

“It has been some time, though certainly not an age,” Nyx said, inclining her head. He had to smile at what was nearly a joke, in the world of Mother Night. “How have you been doing? Thanatos seems worried about you.”

“Oh, he worries too much,” Zagreus said dismissively. “I’m fine. I’m always fine, Nyx.”

“Well,” she said, “I have a suggestion for your predicament. I do not know if it will work, but there is a possibility.”

He perked up instantly. “Really? What is it?”

“We now have a path to primordial chaos, thanks to your work with the sigil. It the space which came before creation. As such, we there might attempt to find out the limits of what binds you here.”

“Huh,” he said. “Okay, yeah, let’s try it. Thank you, Nyx.”

“Do not thank me yet. It is only a possibility, and I fear the experience may be… unpleasant.”

“Nyx,” he said dryly, “I’ve died over a hundred times. I’m used to unpleasantness.”

“True,” she said. “But I am reluctant to inflict it on you, knowing it may not work.”

“Well, I’m not. I want to try it. What do we need to do?”

“Give me a short time to prepare,” said Nyx. “I will let you know when I am ready.”

Somehow it was her _and_ Thanatos who went to get him when the time came. Nyx’s expression was as serene as ever, though Than looked like he was buzzing with anxiety.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Than asked immediately.

“What? Yes. Why are you here?” Zagreus said, looking from him back to Nyx.

“It occurred to me that Thanatos’ presence as Death seems to stablilize you, somewhat,” Nyx said. “I thought this may be useful.”

“I think this is dangerous,” Thanatos warned. “We’re talking about your _life force_ here, Zag.”

“Well… are you here to try and stop me?”

“Nyx thinks we can keep you safe. I… If you want to do this, I’d prefer to be there, I suppose.”

Zagreus tried to make reassuring eye contact, which may have failed because he was also starting to feel a little nervous. “Then thank you, Than, really. It means a lot to me.”

It wasn’t like he wanted to leave everyone behind forever, he thought to himself as they made their way to the sigil in the administrative chamber. He loved these people, many of them, and wanted to make sure they were still in his life. Leaving the House of Hades had never been about leaving Thanatos, Nyx, Megaera, Achilles… And now, paradoxically, Persephone. If Nyx’s idea worked, he’d figure something out. Maybe some kind of time split would work, spending some time on the surface and some in the Underworld. Maybe Persephone would be willing to go with him, sometimes, especially if her plan to reconcile the Olympians worked out. That wasn’t the worst idea in the world.

The passage into the realm of chaos was gentler than his usual experience with the gates, though it still put a kind of strain on him, a feathering around the very reality of his self. Thanatos became even more visibly on edge, whereas Nyx became even stiller and more outwardly calm, regardless of her feelings.

“ _Greetings_ ,” came the wavering, layered voice of Primordial Chaos, echoing around them. _“Though I do not understand why you attempt this, I nonetheless invite you to use this space to try, Son of Hades. Respond?”_

“Master Chaos, sir,” Zagreus said by way of greeting. “I realize this is an odd request, so thank you.”

_“It costs me nothing to allow your presence here. And Thanatos, child of Nyx, is it?”_

“Yes,” Than said, looking supremely awkward, which had to be the funniest possible response to meeting Chaos themselves for the first time.

_“Be welcome here too, and try not to destroy the son of Hades. I would prefer if he remain intact.”_

“Aw, Master Chaos, you really do care,” Zagreus chuckled. Thanatos just shook his head, probably trying to figure out when Zagreus had had the time to make friends with the primordial originator of all life.

“Child,” Nyx said, turning to face Zagreus. “I’m going to take your hands. The power of the Night is going to move through you.”

“Sure, power of the Night,” he said, offering his hands. “I’ve collected so much darkness lately this should be a snap.”

“It will be a little different,” Nyx said. “Thanatos?”

“Here,” Thanatos said, hand on Zagreus’ shoulder. “Just hang in there, Zagreus. It won’t take very long.”

Nyx took his hands and suddenly everything vanished. If he’d felt his form wavering upon entering the realm of Chaos, this was like his form being suddenly stretched thin as a sheet of paper, folding him to nothingness with no warning. It was kind of one of the worst things he’d ever felt. He could still see Nyx’s eyes, burning pale gold in front of him, haloed by pure darkness.

There was really nothing he could do but try and withstand it, and he did his best. He could not have said how much time passed, but suddenly the vast surge of emptiness was interrupted, and he became aware of his body again because his knees had buckled under him. Thanatos caught him, lowering him to the ground.

“Child…” Nyx said.

“Sorry,” he said, mouth sluggish to form the words. “I’m fine. Keep going. You’re making progress, right?”

She knelt and looked at him beseechingly. Finally, he saw caught a glimpse of the pain that her calm expression had been masking. “Very well. Once more.”

“Mother—”

“I know his limits and mine.”

It was almost worse the second time for knowing what was coming, with no real way to brace himself. But again, he endured. If that’s all it was, enduring discomfort, he could do it, he thought. For as long as it took for Nyx to separate whatever part of him was linked to this place, he could do it.

He heard another voice, somehow, while he was lost in the dark. _“It will not work like this. You see the very part that binds him is the same that lets him live.”_

 _“Chaos,”_ said the darkness, _“I know what I am doing.”_

 _“Let me lend just a hint of my own power,”_ came the many-layered response. _“I can identify it for you. See?”_

Oh, Gods. As always, the brush of Chaos’ true power was excruciating, the same sideways twist of soul that bit into him and his enemies alike on many of his escapes. It scanned through him like a line of fire, closed in on his beating heart. Somewhere he thought his body was twisting, fighting, but he couldn’t feel it.

In that moment, he understood it, too. His heart was only beating because of the power of the Underworld all around him. It ran through his veins with his blood, and in its absence, the whole thing that was Zagreus would just stop. He’d thought of it like severing a bond; cutting a rope or at worst amputating a limb. But the bond was every part of him. He had to have realized.

He came to consciousness in flickers and starts, brief sensations passing him by. Hands smoothing his hair, lifting him up. Movement, dizzying. The dismissive barking tone of Hades, somewhere distant, saying “Foolishness.” Eventually, the soft impact of his bed, barely felt through a numb body.

Even after feeling came back, and his thoughts slowly collected into some semblance of order, he couldn’t quite motivate himself to sit up. Once again, he told himself that he wasn’t disappointed, and this was for the best. He should be happy here.

Nyx came by. She said, “I am so sorry, my child.”

Persephone too, awkwardly, though with real warmth in her voice. “Nyx told me, I… please come back, Zagreus. We’ll figure something out.”

He finally stirred a little when Megaera walked in some endless stretch of time later, saying “I can’t believe it. There’s always something with you.”

He groaned, rolling over onto his back. “I know. Never happy with what I’ve got.”

“No, you’re not,” she said. “Look at you. Why do you keep doing this to yourself? You’re not getting out, Zag, no one’s getting out. It would hurt less to just accept it.”

“Maybe,” he admitted.

“Don’t…” her face twisted as she tried to come up with the right words. “Don’t just throw yourself away like this. You could be happy here if you just let yourself be, you understand?”

“Meg,” he said, “am I hearing things, or are you attempting emotional support?”

“Ugh!” She snapped. Came to the bedside and looked at his face, expression softening. “You’re the worst. Get over it. I’ll be waiting for you when you do.”

“I’ll see you then,” he said.

Thanatos had been popping in periodically, and this time caught him when his eyes were open, staring up at the ceiling. “Zagreus. You’re okay?”

Realizing he had no choice but to be, he shored up some more energy to that effect. “I will be, yeah. Sorry about all that.”

“That whole thing was reckless,” Thanatos said, moving to the bed and sitting on the side of it, where his back brushed Zagreus’ knee. “I was actually pretty scared.”

“I know. I’m never careful.”

“You’re not,” Thanatos said. “No matter how many times I tell you to be. I still don’t even really understand, Zag. I want you to be happy. But I’m also happy for you to stay here with me. Is it really so bad?”

“It’s not so bad at all,” he said.

Apparently, he hadn’t said it very convincingly, as Thanatos gave him a wounded look. Zagreus put some more energy into it as he said, “I mean it, I never wanted to leave you and Nyx and everyone else here who I care about. Not for good or anything. This isn’t really about that.”

“What is it about?”

“Being able to choose.”

Thanatos pulled something out of his robe, a little pearly blue seashell. “Maybe this is just cruel at this point, but I got this for you.”

Zagreus scooted up into a seated position against the head board, taking the shell and turning it over in his hands. “Thanks. Than, can you… come closer?”

There was comfort to be found even in hopelessness, if he could feel it while pressed against Than’s body, head resting on his chest. Of course he’d have to get up and carry on shortly, and Than would have to get back to work, but for now…

“This doesn’t mean it’s impossible,” Thanatos said slowly.

“Meg said I’d probably hurt less if I just gave up.”

“I care deeply for Meg. But I think she’s wrong about this one,” Thanatos said. “I know Nyx and Chaos failed to find a way. That doesn’t mean there isn’t one out there, somewhere. We’re gods, Zagreus. We have the rest of time to figure it out.”

Yes. That was the blessing of being what they were; the main thing they had an endless abundance of was time. Things that were once impossible could become possible, eventually. Given enough time, there was a chance one might even escape the inescapable. And until then, he was blessed with the opportunity to fight and struggle for that chance… Again, and again, and again, and again.


End file.
